


To Want Unknowingly

by chiasmus



Series: Best Friends AU [3]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bruises, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Teenagers, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiasmus/pseuds/chiasmus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik has bruises and a busted lip from a fight. Charles provides him with frozen vegetables and concern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Want Unknowingly

**Author's Note:**

> More from the time when Erik and Charles are floundering around each other. Neither of them knows what the S in UST stands for at this point, I think.

Over the years, Erik has become better at ignoring what anyone says about himself, but if anyone crosses a certain line when speaking about Charles, all bets are off. This isn’t often an issue, since most people like Charles or don’t know him well enough to care either way. The exception to this is Sebastian Shaw. Erik doesn’t know _why_ Shaw is such a complete dick, just that he is, and it’s reached a point that sometimes Erik is looking for the provocation, because it provides an excuse to hit him.

Like now. Charles isn’t even there, but Erik overhears. He could keep walking, but instead he stalks over to Shaw. “ _What_ did you just say?” he growls, though he knows full well.

“Of course, Lehnsherr’s coming to defend the honor of his little b--”

Erik’s fist connects with the asshole’s nose before the words are even out of his mouth. Quite often Erik fights dirty when he fights at all, but there’s a certain satisfaction found in the straightforward act of punching Shaw as hard as he can.

\--

Erik sits on a stool in Charles’ kitchen and catches the bag of peas Charles throws at him. His split lip has at least quit bleeding and he resists the urge to run his tongue over the cut. He doesn’t meet Charles’ gaze, which is easier to do now that he’s holding the cold plastic against his left eye.

Charles hasn’t spoken to him, which means he’s angry, or worried, or both. He had dragged Erik away after he, MacTaggert, and Summers broke up the fight. Without a word Charles had fished Erik’s keys out of his pocket and drove them to his house. The silence is the rare, uncomfortable kind, but Erik won’t be the one to break it. Finally, Charles does.

“What did Shaw even say to you this time?” Charles asks wearily.

“It’s not what he said. It’s what he was going to say,” Erik grumbles.

“Then what was he going to say?”

“It--” Erik almost says it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t want to answer, but that’s obviously a lie -- it mattered enough for him to smash the fucking bastard’s face in. “Figure out for yourself,” he snaps instead.

Charles frowns, wraps some ice in a dish cloth, and takes Erik’s right hand in his own. Charles applies the ice to Erik’s sore knuckles, which begins to distract further from the pain. Erik resists the urge to jerk away from the contact; it’s not that he dislikes it, but rather he’s always too aware whenever Charles touches him, even when it’s only out of necessity. Charles’ hands are smaller than Erik’s, not by much, cold and slightly damp and unblemished. This time Charles hadn’t been able to jump into the middle of the fight with Erik, since he still does that no matter how many times Erik tells him lately _don’t_.

”You can’t keep letting him get to you like this,” Charles says, clear disapproval in his tone.

“Yeah, well. Someone has to teach him to shut his goddamn mouth.”

Charles shakes his head, though smiles despite himself. Between them, Charles has always been the one to see the best in people and even he doesn’t like Shaw. As far as Erik knows Shaw is the only one, aside from Kurt, who Charles has come close to considering irredeemably unpleasant. He hasn’t quite crossed the line into thinking that - unlike Erik who jumped to the conclusion quite easily months ago - but he isn’t going to defend Shaw either. “Be that as it may, the Pavlovian approach has yet to work, and you still end up bruised and bloody,” Charles says.

“He isn’t any better off. I think I may have broken his nose this time,” Erik says, more pleased with himself than regretful.

Charles sighs. “Erik, that isn’t the sort of thing you should be proud of.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it is,” Erik asserts stubbornly.

“Your mother isn’t going to be happy.”

Erik flinches from the words and removes the peas to glare at Charles. “Do you really think I don’t know that?”

Charles bites his lower lip, gaze focused on his hands and Erik’s. “I know you do, but you can always use the reminder,” Charles says.

Frowning, Erik tosses the bag of peas into the sink since they’re starting to melt and lose their efficacy. Charles moves away to retrieve and put them back in the freezer. This isn’t the first time Charles has said similar words to him and it isn’t the first time Charles has become agitated through the consequences of Erik’s actions. It won’t be the last, either, because Erik knows himself and he knows Charles.

“Though whatever I say, it won’t stop you,” Charles adds. He shoves a new bag, this time of green beans, against Erik’s face with a little more force than necessary.

“Ow,” Erik says, but he doesn’t deny Charles’ words.

“Sorry,” Charles responds reflexively, then gives Erik a half-hearted glare. “Actually, I’m not, because ninety-nine percent of the fights you’ve had with Shaw you could have walked away, and since you won’t tell me what started this fight, I’m concluding it was exactly the same as the others.”

Guilt weighs on Erik’s shoulders, but he keeps himself upright and goes as far to say, “You don’t have to get so worked up about it. I’ll be fine, like I always am.”

“Don’t give me that,” Charles snaps, “You know you would be bloody furious if our situations were reversed.”

This is true, but Erik never claims to not be a hypocrite.

“You’re not that badly off _this_ time, but what about the next?” Charles continues, gaining momentum. “Or a time after that? You have got to stop this, Erik. You’re going to end up getting yourself into real trouble one day -- and I don’t know what I would -- if you’re going to get into these idiotic fights at least do it while I’m around so you’re not in it alone and I can drag you out of it as quickly as possible.”

That Charles cares is something Erik never doubts, but he doesn’t usually think about to what extent except at times like these. Erik doesn’t take any particular instance in their friendship for granted and this drives everything further home; in fact, Erik almost considers listening to Charles. He likely won’t. Nevertheless it means a lot to him, and he looks down until Charles takes the green beans away and draws his attention back. Angered worry has ebbed, changed into something that’s softer and concerned. It inspires a complicated knot in Erik’s chest that he can’t begin to untangle and instead just accepts. This somehow manifests as a slightly mad smile and there’s a sharp jab of pain, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

“Smiling isn’t really the appropriate response here, especially when you’ve cut your lip,” Charles huffs, though he sounds less bothered. He takes over the dish towel again, this time bringing it to Erik’s lip to try to stop the flow of blood.

No words come to mind, which is just as well, so Erik shrugs and Charles rolls his eyes.

Charles is standing too close for Erik to be comfortable with the proximity, but he doesn’t want to shove Charles away, either. When his lip has stopped bleeding Charles begins to remove the cloth. Erik’s hand lifts to ensnare Charles’ wrist, the hold loose enough Charles could easily break free if he wanted. Surprise flickers across Charles’ features, though leaves him untroubled. Erik wants Charles this close, maybe even closer still. It’s irrational. He isn’t a fucking child who needs a hug because his face hurts and any other explanations are too difficult to think clearly about. Charles must be of a similar mind, since he hesitantly shuffles a step closer to Erik, unsure what to do with his other hand so he returns the green beans to Erik’s eye, gently this time, like touching but buffered. There have been other, inexplicable moments between them, more of them recently than in the years past, and while Erik doesn’t normally hesitate, none of this makes any sense to him and it’s _Charles_ , so--

A car door slams outside. Charles pulls his hand free and Erik leans away from him. He catches the ice cubes before they fall into his lap, but the frozen vegetables hit the floor. Charles walks over to peer out the kitchen window. “Shit,” he says, loud enough for Erik to hear, which can only mean that Charles’ stepfather is home, bizarrely, when it isn’t that late in the afternoon.

Charles doesn’t have to say anything else. Erik scoops up the green beans and puts them back into the freezer. He gets more ice and keeps the dish towel then follows Charles out of the kitchen towards the study. Whatever had almost passed between them remains unfinished, pressing against the back of Erik’s thoughts the rest of the day. He refuses to acknowledge it, because if he does, he has the feeling nothing will be quite the same.


End file.
